


Leave There a Note

by a tattered rose (atr)



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: F/M, mentioned death of minor character, technically a poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:07:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27902713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atr/pseuds/a%20tattered%20rose
Summary: "Open your diary, read what you wrote, skip ahead a few pages and leave there a note."Annie writes Jeff a thing.
Relationships: Annie Edison/Jeff Winger
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	Leave There a Note

**Author's Note:**

  * For [onceandfuturekiki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/onceandfuturekiki/gifts).



> I was thinking in a general way about this gifset onceandfuturekiki posted (http://onceandfuturekiki.tumblr.com/post/109076833701/kikis-top-20-community-episodes-18-basic) Found some paper and a pen in my bag and freewrote on the way home. (Written like 6 years ago.)

Open the windows and open the doors, the stops in the sinks and the pads on the floors. Open your diary, read what you wrote, skip ahead a few pages and leave there a note. Plenty of secrets can always be found, around a dark corner or within a small sound. The rustle of pages, the sigh of a friend, a long pondered text message not finished with send.

What's spoken in anger is often a truth, of lies told oneself in a bar in a booth. You wanted to knock, you wanted to call, but it's past your own walls you're too scared to fall. You take out your softness like you take out your trash, eyes turned away from a wished-upon lash. Wishing they'd notice, wishing they'd care, when quick furtive glances become prolonged stare. The words and the speeches so quick to the tongue, work just as well along path from the lung.

Aimless, you wander, but let me be blunt, you aren't the only one trapped in a hunt. For home and for safety and someone to love, for something as fitted as soft stretchy glove. I know you like leather, so line yours in fleece, nothing like that would trouble our peace. That would sneak up, one day at a time, fill-in-the-words-to-finish-the-rhyme. I do not know it, just how you feel, I know anything perfect will never be real. We'll fight and we'll yell as we've always done, as sure as the night will follow the sun.

But I know one more thing and Jeff, so do you, we always make up because love can be true. I'm writing this thing with your head in my lap, and yes for a while I made believe it a nap. I know by your breathing that you're still awake, in just the same way I'll give what you'll take. Sit here in silence and pretend to write, my essay for Crick's class due tomorrow night. I started this letter as something to do, I wanted to stay and sit here with you. Any stray thought that entered my head, all of the things I wish I had said.

A few minutes more and I'll quietly go, leaving this missive beneath the pillow. And before you ask this is a clean draft, it's much more complex than the speeches you craft. The point is I know you, I can't be deceived, to think the death of your father didn't leave you bereaved. Not for the boy who'd committed no sin, but for the hope you might begin with him again. You can't now, I'm sorry, that's all I wanted to say, though hopefully in a more poetic way.


End file.
